


all i wanted was for you to be ok

by amazingsantiago



Series: Missing Scenes Series [6]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingsantiago/pseuds/amazingsantiago
Summary: Jake and Amy central drabbles based on every episode of Season 6





	1. 6x01: Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> i'm finally posting some of my season 6 drabbles i've written so far on here, will finish the rest of the missing scenes series after i finish university in one months time!!

“I’m so glad we’re finally alone,” Jake says, shutting the door to room 125 behind them. They’d just dropped Captain Holt off at the airport in his rental car, both needing to see him walk through the gate before they’d believe he’s gone. Don’t get him wrong, Jake loves Holt - he’s made him a better man, taught him the importance of wearing a tie in the workplace and there’s no forgetting that Jake would probably still be unmarried and in freaking prison if it weren’t for Holt - but this is their _honeymoon_ and it was weird and uncomfortable having their boss two feet away from them at all times. They can finally do and say everything they’ve wanted to all week. “ _So_ , Holly Gennero, where were we?”

 

Amy grins, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I actually signed us up to all the activities Holt ruined last week while we were in the car. Tonight is sensual pottery.”

 

“But - but - but - _Die Hard_ -.”

 

“Patience, McClane,” she responds in a low, sexy voice, placing her hand on his chest. “Sensual pottery will help John and Holly get in the mood.”

 

“John is already in the mood and has been since the second he saw you in that outfit,” he says, looking her up and down to drive his point home.

 

Amy crosses her arms firmly. “When John married Holly, he knew what she was like. He knew she liked doing activities on vacation from when they went on that cruise. And if John wants to ever see Holly naked again, John will come to sensual pottery and have a good time with his wife.”

 

“Fine,” he agrees reluctantly. He wants to get their _Die Hard_ on now, but if it’s a choice between pottery and never seeing her naked again, he’ll choose pottery every time.

 

And, hey, maybe it’ll be fun.

 

Pleased with his decision, Amy pecks his lips and quickly changes out of the red blazer and skirt and into another of her pretty floral dresses.

 

“How do I look?” She asks for the millionth time this trip. She’s digging for compliments, he knows, but he’s kind of obsessed with the way her whole face lights up when he tells her she looks beautiful.

 

So he does what he does best: lovingly roast her. “Is it bad that I preferred the wig and red jacket?”

 

“Yes,” she says, poking her tongue out at him.

 

He laughs, pulling her into his arms. “I’m just kidding. I love Amy Santiago way more than Holly Gennero.”

 

“Right answer, babe.” She kisses him again and then grabs his hand, leading him out their room.

 

“Still love the view back here,” he murmurs, a giant smirk on his face. “Your butt is da bomb.”

 

When they’re a few minutes late to the pottery class, Jake’s sure his wife is about to have a panic attack, but chill, happily married, doesn’t-give-a-hoot Amy confidently walks into the room and sits near the back.

 

Amazed, Jake sits on the stool behind her and kisses her cheek. “Proud of you, honey,” he whispers in her ear.

 

(He never thought they’d be a “ _honey_ ” or “ _sweetheart_ ” kind of couple but it had sleepily slipped out the morning after their wedding and it kind of stuck. Amy thought it was adorable).

 

She smiles but shushes him because she hasn’t changed _that_ much; talking when the teacher is talking is still a huge no-no.

 

The instructor gives them a brief rundown of what to do, turns on some sexy jazz music and lets them get on with it.

 

Amy’s watched _Ghost_ enough times that she knows how this works. She wets her hands in the bowl of water next to them and starts shaping the lump of clay into a vase.

 

“Do I just join in?” Jake asks quietly, kissing her neck a few times.

 

“Yeah, just wet your hands and then put them on top of mine.”

 

“Title of your sextape?”

 

She ignores that, elbowing him in the stomach.

 

“OK, OK, getting my hands wet now…”

 

He places his hands on top of hers and the vase crumples in half, completely losing its shape. “Oops. Sorry, Ames.”

 

“You should be,” she says, half-serious. “Try again. But gentle this time.”

 

He gently places his hands on top of hers and together, they move their hands up and down the clay, watching as it morphs into a vase-like shape once more. They intertwine their fingers and he keeps trailing hot kisses down her neck, which is _very_ distracting, but feels so good she doesn’t want him to stop.

 

“How much longer do we have to do this for?” He asks after about five minutes, extremely turned on and wishing they were back in their hotel room.

 

“You bored?”

 

“No, I just have other sensual activities in mind…”

 

Amy bites her lip. “I really wanted to make a vase for our bedroom that we could keep forever, knowing it was from our honeymoon.”

 

“I can buy you a vase from the gift shop,” he suggests, withering under her sharp glare. “Which is not the same thing. Obviously. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. You know, this is fun and all, Ames, but if we don’t get back to our hotel room in t-minus two minutes, your husband really is going to die hard.”

 

She stops the pottery wheel spinning and plants a scorching kiss on his lips. “Race you back there?”

 

“Oh, it’s _on_.”


	2. 6x02: Hitchcock and Scully

“Are you mad at me or something?”

“Nope,” she says tersely, her body language screaming  _yes_. Her jaw is clenched and she’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles are white. She hasn’t spoken a word to him during the drive from Marine Park back to the Nine-Nine. She parks her squad car outside the precinct and goes to open her door, but Jake grabs her arm to stop her. “Let go of me,” she demands.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” he responds. He hates this awkward tension between them. It feels weird driving together and not singing along to Taylor Swift’s greatest hits. “You seemed fine with me before we got in the car.”

She straightens her tie, saying nothing.

“Wow. You’re blanking me? Real mature, Ames.”

“I’m so sorry for being upset about my husband almost getting shot,” she snaps, and oh crap, there are tears welling in her eyes.

Jake is stunned into silence. He knows their jobs can be dangerous sometimes. Personally, his stomach twists whenever he thinks about Amy coming into contact with murderers and rapists and any other hardened criminals that might try to harm her. He also knows that he’s had too many close calls — more than she has — and it sucks that she’s almost lost him on multiple occasions. There was the time he was held hostage by Hoytsman, the time he was hit by a car and suffered internal bleeding (they binge watched  _Greys Anatomy_  last year so he has a greater understanding of why that was so scary, but he still argues that’s where the blood is supposed to be), the time the Canadian Hans Gruber almost killed him at Christmas, Figgis,  _prison_ …

“You were really worried about me?” He asks eventually, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Amy stares at him incredulously. “Of course I was worried about you! You’re my husband! You were surrounded! And you didn’t have your bulletproof vest on! If we hadn’t found them when we did—.”

“We don’t have to think about that because you did find them,” he interrupts. The important thing is that it didn’t happen; they don’t need to discuss the worst case scenario. “Speaking of, how did you even know we were in trouble?”

Charles didn’t have time to call it in and God knows Hitchcock and Scully wouldn’t have considered telling the Nine-Nine what they were doing.

“You hadn’t responded to my texts in a while so I knew something was wrong,” she says. Despite working on the same floor again, he still texts her one hundred times a day. He usually keeps her updated about how hungry he is (very), how beautiful she is (the most beautiful) and how bad Charles’ lunch smells (it’s the stinkiest). He’s glad that his distracting texts (or lack thereof) inadvertently saved their lives. “I tracked you using  _Find my Friends_.”

“Thank God my wife is the best police sergeant in the world, huh?” He grins.

“Stop being cute, Jake. You needlessly risked your life again — I could’ve lost you —.”

“But you didn’t,” he replies, intertwining their fingers and squeezing her hand. “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

“You better not,” she threatens, shooting him a sharp glare and reminding him why his wife is not a woman to mess with.

“I’m not,” he promises. “And I swear I’ll be more careful from now on. I’m not a single guy in my twenties anymore. I’m married now. I’ve got someone to come home to every night.”

(Most of the time they carpool and get home at the same time — global warming is a  _bitch_  and everyone needs to do their bit — or Amy comes home after him because she’s a sergeant now, but potato, potato).

“I know you love your job and I love mine too, but I love you more, Jake. I don’t think I would survive if one of these days the Nine-Nine can’t get to you in time.”

“Maybe I should wear slut sauce around my neck instead of my vest?” He jokes. “The slut sauce would keep me safe, it’s surprisingly viscous.”

“Don’t joke about slut sauce right now,” she deadpans.

“Copy that.”

“Listen, McClane,” she says, squeezing his hand back, “I know you like being the hero, but how about you learn from your favourite character’s mistakes and prioritise being a husband first?”

“I will, Ames, I promise.” He smiles encouragingly at her. “Are we good?”

“We’re good,” she murmurs, pecking his lips. “I wish we could just go home. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah. How about we have a bath tonight and do facemasks and give each other massages?”

Amy sighs dreamily, which he takes as a resounding yes. “It’ll be like being back on our honeymoon again.”

“With you dressed up like Holly Gennaro?” His entire face lights up. He is really into that wig and has already begged her numerous times to do whatever it takes to make her hair look like that permanently.

She rolls her eyes. “We’ll see about that, McClane. Come on, let’s go back inside. I hear Holt has something he needs to tell us all.”


	3. 6x03: The Tattler

He finds her in his old library, her dark hair hanging over her face as she reads _Jane_ _Eyre_ for the dozenth time and he can’t help but smile. He loves her _so_ much - nerdy quirks and all.

 

“There you are,” he says, not too loudly that he startles her, but loud enough to hear him. She’s always laser focused when she’s reading and often doesn’t even notice him entering the room.

 

“Hey,” she responds, closing the book. “How are you?”

 

“Eh, I’ve been better.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

 

She knows him too well, seeing right through his act. She gestures for him to sit next to her and takes his hand in hers.

 

“I can tell this ‘tattler’ thing is bothering you.”

 

“Babe, it’s fine, seriously-.”

 

“It’s not fine,” she stops him. “You were falsely accused of doing something you didn’t do. Again. It sucks and... we should talk about it.”

 

“Here?”

 

She glances around the library, adorned with shelves and shelves of beautiful books. At her school, the library was her happy place - an escape from the chaos at home that comes along with having eight children. It was an escape from the cafeteria where she often sat alone. The library has always been her sanctuary and now they’re married and share everything, there’s no reason why it can’t be Jake’s either.

 

“Yeah, here,” she says finally, squeezing his hand. “This had to remind you of prison, right?”

 

He lets out a shaky breath. Even though he’s a police officer and thinks about sending other people to prison every single day, references to his own time behind bars still affect him. “I think I kind of did. You know, the way people assumed I did something that I didn’t...”

 

“That makes sense.”

 

“I didn’t tattle. I was _cool_.”

 

“Babe, I know you’re going through something right now, but based on the clothes you’re wearing and the pictures I’ve seen, I don’t think you were as cool as you thought you were,” Amy confesses.

 

“You don’t dig the long hair and nose ring?” He gasps dramatically, offended.

 

“Not at all,” she laughs, running her free hand through his hair. “Although you know I love the curls. I will divorce you if you lose them.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

“But seriously, I know it bothers you that everyone thinks you tattled when it was actually Gina. Maybe she’ll change her mind and tweet it after the reunion?”

 

“I doubt it,” he murmurs. He knows Gina. He’s known her since they were kids and she’s never publicly taken responsibility for anything - ever. She’s not going to start now.

 

“I’m sorry,” Amy says, biting her lip.

 

“It’s not your fault,” he assures her. “And hey, I’m sorry too. I know you’ve been busy with work and this should have been a fun night out. I’m sorry it got ruined by Tattlegate.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” She scoffs. “It did not get ruined. We had sex in the Admin Office and now I’m reading _Jane_ _Eyre_. I had an amazing time!”

 

“You are such a nerd,” he says, rolling his eyes affectionately.

 

“I’m the nerd? You’re the one with the 100% attendance record, mister,” she retorts.

 

“Oh, _puh-lease_. Like your parents ever let you have a day off school.”

 

“99.9% actually. I got in a fight with David and broke my arm.”

 

“That is _really_ hot,” Jake smirks, his eyes sparkling.

 

Amy bats him away. “Don’t make fun of me. It hurt,” she sniffs.

 

“I’m sure it did. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that you don’t have a perfect record. You know, I’ve always loved rebels...”

 

“Oh, you have?” She giggles as he draws her into a steamy kiss. Well, steamy for library standards. “You should probably get out of here before we get caught having sex in another room in your school,” she says rationally as they touch foreheads, as much as she really wants him to stay.

 

“You’re not coming with me?” He furrows his brow.

 

“I want to stay here a little longer and write a book report on _Jane_ _Eyre_.”

 

“Such a nerd,” he repeats his sentiments from earlier, kissing her softly before standing up. He watches her for a moment as she opens the book where she left off, his thoughts drifting to something she said at work. “By the way, were you being serious earlier when you said The Tattler was a sexy nickname?”

 

“I think it’s a _very_ sexy nickname.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs, looking him up and down. “Extremely sexy. The sexiest nickname of all time. In fact, I wouldn’t want to have sex with anyone who wasn’t called the tattler in school.”

 

“Good.” He grins. “Don’t be too late with your book report or I’ll have to _tattle_ on you.”

 

“ _Oh_ , _mama_.”


	4. 6x04: Four Movements

“I can’t believe Gina’s leaving the Nine-Nine.”

 

Jake switches his bedside lamp back on, rolling onto his side to face his wife. They got home an hour ago and after changing into one of his old t-shirts, removing her make-up and carrying out her rigorous dental and skincare regimes, she climbed into bed with him. She’d barely said a word since Gina announced she’d be leaving and he knows she’s struggling to come to terms with it. Hell,  _he’s_ struggling to come to terms with it and he’s the one who told her to leave.

 

“It sucks,” he murmurs, not knowing what else to say. Gina has been one of his best friends since they were kids, they’ve been through so much together, he got her the job at the Nine-Nine and the thought of her not being there just… well, sucks.

 

“Why now?” Amy asks, twisting her wedding ring.

 

She only fiddles with her rings when she’s anxious like when one of her uniformed officers mislabels evidence or when the grocery store has ran out of her favorite brand of herbal teas. He places his hand on top of hers to remind her that he’s here and that everything’s gonna be OK.

 

“That app idea she came up with on the fly? Tinder for babies? She realised it actually has some scope and if she wants to be the best mom to Iggy she can be, she can’t juggle a start-up and her job at the Nine-Nine,” Jake explains. “I encouraged her to go for it. Her talents are wasted as an assistant, Ames.”

 

“I know,” she sighs with an air of acceptance. “She made fun of me almost every day for eight years.”

 

“But?” Jake prompts.

 

“But I’m going to miss her like crazy. Is that weird?”

 

“No, it’s not weird. I’m going to miss working with her too.”

 

There’s a beat of silence. Jake laces their fingers together and squeezes her hand. “She gave me my wedding dress. I mean, I know she made a dig about my gray pantsuits, but she still gave me my dream dress. I would’ve had to marry you in sweatpants if it weren’t for her.”

 

“She picked well. You looked beautiful in it,” he says, smiling softly at the memory of Amy walking down the makeshift, shredded paper aisle. The lace, the sweetheart neckline, the tulle skirt… It was almost perfect.

 

(No dress could be perfect to him without a big bow at the back; his wife vehemently disagreed).

 

“I apparently owe my life to her for tattling on Brandon Bliss and saving me from a life of crime.”

 

“And for her Twitter account single-handedly saving the Nine-Nine from being shut down,” Amy adds.

 

“She’s more of a hero than any of us,” Jake says seriously, a hint of sadness seeping into his voice. “I’m gonna miss her so much.”

 

Realistically, he knows they’ll still hang out. She’ll still come to Shaw’s and they’ll still tag each other in memes all day when he should be working and their kids — when he and Amy finally have kids — will be the best of friends. But it’ll be… different… not having her around the Nine-Nine.

 

“Me too,” Amy sniffles, a stray tear sliding down her cheek.

 

“Screw this,” Jake decides suddenly, his usual undepletable energy returning. “Screw feeling sad. Our friend is going to make millions, we should be happy for her.”

 

Amy wipes away another tear and nods determinately. “You’re right. This is an incredible opportunity. We are happy for her.”

 

“Speaking of incredible,” Jake raises his eyebrows, shifting gears, “is my super smart, incredible wife still feeling turned on by my perfect attendance record?”

 

“Oh, absolutely,” she responds in a low, sexy voice.

 

Jake grins. Amy’s sex drive seems to have increased tenfold since the wedding and it’s _awesome_. Everything he does seems to turn her on. Correctly filling out paperwork, dressing up as Melvil Dewey, community service that he did twenty years ago. She can’t get enough.

 

(When they wake up the next morning after an amazing night of doing it and giggling over Jake’s high school stories, Gina has already sent him a mock-up of what the app would look like.

 

 _That’s dope, Linetti_ , he types back.  _It’s gonna be bigger than Facebook_ ).

 

(A year later, when Gina’s app is sixth on the global charts and climbing, Jake can’t help but grin when a notification pops up on his phone that Iggy Linetti and Mia Peralta are a match)


	5. 6x05: A Tale of Two Bandits

It’s rare that he wakes up first.

 

Amy’s an early bird and always has been, while her husband would sleep in til noon if he could. He hasn’t woken up before her since the first few weeks post-South Carolina when he was tormented with nightmares of going back. After a late night outdrinking New York’s Lamest and a very sore head reminding her of their victory, she managed to sleep through all her alarms.

 

She sits up, her head spinning, her finely-honed detective skills, albeit a little foggier than usual, slowly taking in the empty bed next to her and the muffled sounds of _1989_ playing down the hallway. She slips on one of his discarded plaid shirts from their bedroom floor and fumbles towards the kitchen, bumping into walls and door frames en route. When she sees him, with his grey sleep shirt and messy hair, she almost cries, closing the distance between them as fast as she physically can without vomiting everywhere.

 

“Hey, babe,” he murmurs as she wraps her arms around his torso and rests her head against his back. “How you feeling?”

 

“Shit,” she answers honestly. It’s been a while since she drank that much and she hasn’t missed this feeling at all. Her mouth is kinda dry and her head is pounding and she just wants to snuggle with her husband all day and not let go.

 

As with her Drunkenness Scale, Hungover Amy has her own specific personality trait and she is hella clingy. Especially since she and Jake got together. Unfortunately, he has some paperwork to complete for the Trudy Judy case and will have to leave for the precinct at some point, whether she likes it or not. It doesn’t help matters that he’s the cutest husband ever.

 

“I assumed you would be feeling worse for wear this morning and made you chamomile tea and eggs and a bowl of fruit to help with the hangover.”

 

“Turn around so I can kiss you,” she instructs, overcome with feelings of love, love, love.

 

“10-4, Sarge,” he grins, doing as he’s told.

 

She stretches up onto her toes and presses her lips to his, tangling her fingers in his hair as she deepens the kiss.

 

“Your tea will be going cold,” he murmurs against her lips, trying to pull away.

 

“Don’t care.”

 

“Well, I do. You’re dehydrated and you made me buy those fancy tea bags that were more expensive, so drink up, Santiago.” He passes her “Mrs” mug over, watching as she downs it like the Kamikaze shots she was doing last night. He fills her up a large glass of water, insisting she finishes all that, too.

 

They chat and catch-up and laugh as Amy eats her breakfast, Jake telling her about how Trudy Judy may be worse than her brother, with Amy retorting something about how she can’t be as bad as the stupid firefighters. She sent him several misspelt texts at the bar, interrupted by a series of flirty texts when her fourth drink hit her so she properly explains how they tried to turn Shaw’s into a firefighter bar and how they had a drinking game to decide who got to keep it and how Holt saved their asses at the last minute.

 

Eventually, Jake has to tear himself away to shower and get ready for work.

 

She actually pouts, clinging on to him. “Don’t leave me.”

 

“I’m not _leaving_ you, I have to go to work.”

 

“That’s leaving me,” she protests. “Don’t do it.”

 

“Unless you want me to get fired, I don’t really have a choice, babe.”

 

“I’m a sergeant now. I can convince Holt not to fire you-.”

 

“Ames,” he murmurs, cupping her cheek, “I love you more than anything, but I have to go. I’ll be back home before you know it.”

 

“Fine,” she concedes, tears forming behind her eyes. “But you better text me all day long.”

 

Holt will probably have something to say about using his phone that much but - “OK,” he promises. “Are you gonna let go of me now so I can go shower?”

 

“As long as you’re willing to have a second person in this shower of yours,” she says, trailing her finger up his chest.

 

“I think I can make time for that,” he smirks, laughing at her surprised “ _oh_!” when he lifts her into his arms.

 

Long story short, he’s late for work and Terry is less than impressed until Jake explains that Amy is hungover and Terry nods in understanding. Sharon is the same way after a heavy night of drinking. He suggests Jake goes home early that night and pick up her favourite food. When he returns home with a paper bag filled with pierogis and potato pancakes, Amy practically jumps him.

 

The way he looks after her kind of makes her want to go out drinking again. When she tells him, he rolls his eyes.

 

“You’re never drinking again, babe.”


	6. 6x06: The Crime Scene

Amy ties the belt on her dressing gown as she pads into the kitchen, her heart panging a little with guilt when she sees her husband holding a bag of frozen peas to his nose. She closes the distance between them and silently takes the peas off him, holding them to his nose herself.

 

The other guy is nowhere to be seen so Amy assumes he must have taken the hint and gone home.

 

“I’m sorry I punched you, babe,” she murmurs, looking into the eyes of the man she loves, even if he did just give her the fright of her life. Her heart is still beating like crazy.

 

“You really put some force behind that, huh? I finally get why your perps are always so terrified of you,” he chuckles. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

 

“Hurt when you laugh?”

 

“Yeah, it hurts when I laugh,” he sighs. “I guess I deserve it though, right? Looking back on it now, standing over you while you sleep with a huge knife is probably not the best idea I’ve ever had.”

 

“You think, Peralta?” She puts one hand on her hip like her mom used to do when her brothers got into fist-fights as kids.

 

“I’m just so consumed by this damn case! We can’t figure it out-.”

 

“So you thought you’d pretend your sleeping, clueless wife was the corpse?”

 

“Yeah. I’m so, so, so sorry, babe. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

 

She purses her lips and cocks her head, interested in what she could get out of this. “How so?”

 

“Sexy times,” he says, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

 

Amy shakes her head. That is  _so_  not going to cut it. “That’s as much a treat for you as it is for me! It’s gotta be something you really hate doing like picking your socks off the bedroom floor.”

 

“OK.” He claps his hands together. “I’ll pick up my socks off the floor.”

 

“Nice try, Peralta,” she smirks, “but I already did it this evening. Pick something else you hate.”

 

“Laundry?”

 

“Already done and folded  _Marie_   _Kondo_ - _stylez_  back in the drawers.”

 

“Damn. Massaging your feet? I hate that. Your feet stink.”

 

“You’re supposed to be making it up to me, not insulting me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Plus, my feet do  _not_  stink.”

 

“You’re the love of my life, Ames, my best friend, my favourite person in the entire world — and yeah, I even love you more than Bruce Willis —, but your feet smell worse than that gross cheese Charles brought into work last week.”

 

“Rude,” she sniffs indignantly, making a mental note to buy a nice foot cream or something on her next trip to the grocery store.

 

“I could take you out for a nice meal,” he suggests with a flirty smile that has her seriously considering it. “I’ll even wear that pink shirt you loved so much on our honeymoon.”

 

“As much as I love the sound of good food, wine and you looking like a snack in that pink shirt again, we’re going out on Valentines and we’re supposed to be saving, remember?”

 

“You think I looked like a snack in that shirt?” He teases. By the look on his face, she knows she’s never gonna hear the end of this.

 

“I think I showed you how much I loved that shirt when we got back to our room, babe,” she reminds him, a twinkle in her eye as she remembers the steamy kisses against the door and biting her lip so hard it drew blood as she peeled off her husband’s super sexy shirt.

 

“You sure did,” he grins. “Anyways, why don’t we just order pierogis, potato pancakes, hot chocolate and snuggle on the couch watching all your favourite rom-coms? I’m talking  _The_   _Proposal_ ,  _Crazy_ ,  _Stupid_ ,  _Love_ ,  _The_   _Back_ - _Up_   _Plan_...”

 

“That sounds perfect,” she says with a dreamy smile because, truly, there is nothing more she loves than Polish take-out, snuggling with her husband and a good JLo rom-com.

 

“It’s a date.” He pulls the peas away from his face and kisses her softly. It’s totally a rom-com, swoon-worthy kiss until his nose touches her cheek and he screams out in pain again.

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, babe,” she apologises, placing the peas back on his nose. “Although, to be fair, it’s what you deserve for scaring a woman who grew up with seven brothers and knows how to defend herself.”

 

“Karma’s a bitch,” the moustached detective agrees, appearing from the shadows of their apartment.

 

“GET OUT OF HERE, MAN!”


	7. 6x07: The Honeypot

Date Night is a sacred tradition, the one night of the week they’re both off where police talk is strictly forbidden and phones are switched to Do Not Disturb. They take it in turns to pick activities; often they’ll go to the movies or a fancy restaurant or just stay at home, watch _Property Brothers_  and snuggle on their couch. One time they played laser tag (Jake’s idea) and the winner got a sexy reward. No matter what activity they do, Date Night is always super fun and the highlight of Amy’s week.

It’s Jake’s turn to pick their activity, which is why Amy is surprised when he stops in front of the Brooklyn Museum of Industry. Going to a museum is her idea of a dream date, not his. He hates museums.

“What are we doing here?”

“There’s this new barrel exhibit that Holt was talking about—.”

Amy’s mouth drops open. She has never been more attracted to her husband than right this second. “I’ve heard about that! It’s supposed to be super cool. But… this doesn’t seem like something you’d be into. Date Night is supposed to be fun for both of us.”

“I’m into anything that makes you happy, Ames,” he says with a dreamy smile that does funny things to Amy’s heart. “Plus, this exhibit is apparently highly erotic.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Amy laughs, tucking her hair behind both ears at the same time.  _God_ , she loves her husband. Nine months on from their wedding, they’re still very much in the honeymoon phase. They can’t get enough of each other. Their friends (with the exception of Charles who has been obsessed with their relationship since day one) think they’re gross but Amy doesn’t care. They’ve been through a lot more than most couples and they’re finally past it all. They’re  _happy_. And they’re going to celebrate that, whether that makes them gross or not.

“I knew you had ulterior motives,” she replies. “You’d never voluntarily take me to a museum. You’re just trying to get laid!”

Jake blushes fiercely as an old couple walk past them, overhearing Amy’s last sentence. He pulls her inside and smirks as they wait to buy their tickets. “I don’t have to try,” he murmurs in her ear, “married Amy is horny 24/sevs.”

“That’s true. She is.” Her eyes twinkle as she looks him up and down. He’s in one of his usual outfits — a plaid shirt, black jeans and sneakers —, the mop of curls he’s grown out the last few months atop his head is extra curly and the wedding ring on his left hand is a constant reminder of how much he loves her, leaving her unfairly turned on when she can’t do anything about it. “Her husband is incredibly attractive though. Can you blame her?”

“I cannot.”

She grins at him as the ticket office lady calls them forward and Jake asks for two tickets (“one for me and one for my beautiful wife please.”)

He refers to her as his wife wherever and whenever he can: at work, at the grocery store, at the dry cleaners. Every time, it sends a thrill down her spine. She’s his  _wife_.

They each get a sticker (Jake unashamedly pats her boob as he sticks hers on to her top), Amy gets her handbag searched and then they enter the barrel exhibit.

Even for Amy’s standards, it’s pretty boring.

While she’s a huge nerd about trivia (she’s been able to name every capital city in the world since she was eight years old), crosswords and binders, old dusty barrels are not something she’s particularly interested in. But Jake has clearly done his research. He tells her all about the Woodruff family and the difference between Hoopers and Coopers.  _Oh, Mama_. The thought of him memorising facts about barrels just to impress her seriously turns her on.

“This is working for you?” Just like on their honeymoon when he dressed as Melvil Dewey, Jake is equal parts sceptical and delighted that his unorthodox attempts to arouse his wife actually work.

“Mm-hmm.” She places her hand over his sticker. “Your intel was right. This place is so sexy.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool,” he grins, Operation MASH (Make Amy Super Horny) is a certified success. “You wanna go home and have sex?”

“Home is too far.” She looks pointedly over at a large barrel and back at her husband. She bites her lip as she waits for him to catch on.

He does so pretty quickly, his eyes going comically wide. “ _You wanna have sex in this museum?_ ” He hisses even though they’re the only ones around (it turns out that, despite what Captain Holt says, barrel museums are not the most exciting tourist attraction New York has to offer).

“Mm-hmm.”

She watches with baited breath as he scouts the area, the location of the security cameras, whether there any members of staff around. A few long, drawn out seconds later, he nods.

“I’m in.”

(They leave the museum with mussed hair, badly buttoned shirts and wide smiles.

Who knew barrels could be so sexy?)


	8. 6x08: He Said, She Said

They’re lying face to face, noses just touching, his eyes fixed on the wall behind her.

 

“Stop thinking about it,” she says, shattering the silence.

 

His eyes dart to her, his forehead creasing in confusion. “Thinking about what?”

 

“My old Captain trying to kiss me. I can practically _hear_ you thinking.”

 

“I’m not-. Alright, fine, maybe I am,” he confesses. “But you just dropped this massive bombshell that some gross dude tried to take advantage of you and I’m your husband and it’s just...”

 

“A lot,” she finishes his sentence when his words trail away.

 

“Yeah.” His tongue pokes out his mouth, wetting his lips. She watches him intently, waiting for him to say the thing he clearly wants to say. “Has anything else like that happened?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Like with Keri. Like with the Captain. Has anything else happened that I should know about?”

 

“Jake...” She murmurs.

 

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I just... Keri works with sleazeballs, but we work with terrifying criminals on a daily basis. And if that type of thing can happen to her...”

 

“Men have hit on me at work,” she says honestly, noting how he squeezes his eyes tighter, “but nobody has tried to take my clothes off, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“That’s a relief,” he responds on an out-breath, opening up his eyes. “Well, not a relief obviously, I’m the only one who should be hitting on you-.”

 

“It’s OK, babe, I know what you meant,” she assures him, finding it hard not to smile at his flusteredness. It’s adorable. _He’s_ adorable. She’s so glad she found one of the good ones to spend her life with.

 

“I’m sorry that you have to put up with this kind of stuff. It’s not fair.”

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

“And I’m sorry that I’ve been so terrible about not noticing when guys are being weird towards you.”

 

“Oh, Pineapples,” she sighs, cupping his cheek. “You have no need to apologise. You’re not the one doing those things and you can’t feel guilty for the actions of other men. That being said, now you know these things are happening, you should be more aware of them and do better.”

 

“I will. I promise. I’ll be like your knight in freakin’ armor.”

 

“That’s sweet, but I can defend myself. It would just be nice to have your support.”

 

“Absolutely, of course,” he agrees. “You’re a strong, powerful woman. Take down the patriarchy, babe.”

 

She giggles, combing her hands through his messy curls. “We’ll take it down just like we do everything - together.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda hate the ending to this chapter, will probably come back and rewrite at some point...


	9. 6x09: The Golden Child

“Your mom probably hates me now,” Jake says, watching Amy as she gets ready for bed. He’s made so much progress in convincing his in-laws that he’s good enough for their daughter over the past few years  and now he’s gone and blown it by roasting Camila in front of an entire restaurant. “I bet she’ll scratch my face off all the family photos the moment she gets home.” **  
**

Amy rolls her eyes affectionately at him in the mirror, taking off the dainty necklace he bought her last Christmas. “She won’t hate you,” she reassures him, walking over to his side of the bed. “How could anyone hate you? You’re the best.”

“And you’re biased.”

“It’s the truth,” she promises, pecking him on the lips before turning around. “Unzip me?” She asks over her shoulder.

“‘Course,” he responds, dutifully lowering the zipper on the pretty dress she’d worn to dinner. He kisses her now-bare shoulder. “All done.”

“Thanks, babe.” She lets her dress drop to the floor and steps out of it, taking off her bra in exchange for her ratty old NYPD t-shirt. She hurries through her skincare and dental routines, climbing into bed with her husband as soon as the intricate fifteen stage process is complete. A yawn escapes her mouth as she settles her head against the pillow.

Jake smirks. “Long couple of days, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums her agreement, pouting a little. “I thought those beautiful Brazilian bastards were going to take you away from me again.”

He pulls her closer to him. He hates seeing her get hurt too. “What about me? I was terrified you’d given yourself brain damage when you did that death drop.”

“Yeah, that was pretty stupid of me. I just get so competitive around my brothers.”

“ _You_?  _Competitive_?” He teases.

“Shut up,” she mutters, shoving him away. “I can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t. It’s one of the million things I love about you.”

“It is?” She says quietly.

“Yeah. I literally fell in love with you because of that bet we had going on during Holt’s first year at the Nine-Nine. And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little bit competitive myself.”

“Everyone’s noticed, Jake,” she giggles, pulling him closer again. She nuzzles her face into his neck, her words vibrating against his skin. “What are the other 999,999 things you love about me?”

“That might take a while…”

“I’ve got a while. I can’t sleep because of this dumb concussion.”

“OK,” he says, gathering his thoughts. “Well, first, I love how soft your hair is.” He strokes his hand over it to emphasise his point.

“You love me because I use conditioner?” She raises her eyebrows skeptically.

“Small details, Ames,” he responds. “You wanted a million reasons.”

“I do. Continue.”

“Second, I love the way your hair smells.”

“That would be the conditioner again.”

He laughs loudly. “Right. Good job on choosing a great conditioner. Maybe we should re-adjourn this conversation so I can think of the other, non-conditioner related reasons I love you?”

“We’ve got a lifetime, remember, babe?” She shows off her wedding ring.

“How could I forget?” He pulls her hand to his lips and kisses it softly. “Hey, maybe I should get some flowers delivered to your mom?”

“I thought I told you-.”

“I know, but she’s your mom and she’s important to you, even if your picture is only on the piano. I don’t want you to worry about your mom and your husband hating each other.”

“You’re more important to me,” she says seriously. “You were defending my honor. And I am definitely going to talk with her about calling you an idiota and saying your nose is big. I love her and I respect her, but she shouldn’t be allowed to treat you like that. Your nose is perfect.  _You’re_  perfect.”

“You’re perfect too,” he smiles, his eyes shining with love. He really hit the wife jackpot with her. He can’t believe he got so lucky. “Maybe I’ll save my money and just buy you flowers instead.”

She smiles back at him. “I do appreciate a good romantic gesture.”

 


	10. 6x11: The Therapist

She’s waiting for him when he gets out of the therapist’s office, just like she promised she would. After an emotional hour of rehashing his role in his parent’s divorce on a stranger’s couch, seeing his wife’s pretty smile and feeling her ring against his skin when she grabs his hand brings him back to reality.

 

“How was it?” She asks as they leave the building, biting her lip. “You don’t have to tell me what you talked about, of course-.”

 

“It was good. Not as terrible as I imagined. And I talked about you.” He bumps his shoulder against hers and her cheeks flame red.

 

“You did?” She whispers.

 

“Mm-hmm,” he smirks, proud of himself. “Told her how great you are, how much I love you. That kinda stuff.”

 

Amy stops as they reach the sidewalk, turning to face him. “And how much did you say you love me?”

 

“To infinity and beyond.”

 

Amy rolls her eyes as he wraps his arms around her waist and lightly kisses her nose.

 

“I told her I used to be terrified of serious relationships and marriage because of what happened with my parents and seeing the effect it had on my mom. She gestured at my wedding ring and asked me what changed. So I told her this dorky pantsuit-loving detective moved to the Nine-Nine and the desk opposite mine.”

 

“You’re a bigger dork than me,” she fires back. “You just quoted Buzz Lightyear.”

 

“Kinda missing the point there, Ames,” he laughs. “I’ve never been more certain of anything than the moment I decided to marry you. The look on your face when you saw that typo in the crossword puzzle made all my fear and anxiety disappear. All I wanted was to marry you. I’ve been scared my whole life of having a crappy marriage like my parents and being miserable forever, but none of that mattered anymore.”

 

“I love you so much,” she says, tears in her eyes.

 

He tightens his hold on her. “I love you so much too.”

 

“And, hey, the best part of going to therapy is going home and eating an entire tub of ice cream. Let’s go home, Peralta.”

 

He smiles back at her, feeling like his heart might burst. “I’m already there.”


	11. 6x12: Casecation

After Thai food and brainstorming baby names and sex on the couch (Amy was still worked up at thought of him being a freakin’ debate genius and a freakin’ dad genius and Jake was very willing to satisfy her urges), they end up in bed, but Jake can’t sleep. He almost got blown up by an old lady with twisted bowels, almost lost Amy and made the biggest decision of his life — one he never thought he’d make. Sure, he’d always talked about kids in an abstract “never gonna happen” kind of way. He was convinced he was going to die alone and he wouldn’t even have to worry about it. But then he kissed Amy in the evidence lock-up and they fell in love and he had to process the fact that the kids he thought were never going to happen, just might happen.

That’s when he came to the realisation he didn’t want them.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves kids. His goddaughter is a straight-up cutie, playing cops and robbers with Nikolaj is one of his favourite ways to spend a day off work and his heart melts like butter on a hot piece of toast whenever his niece’s and nephew’s call him Tio Jake.

He’s good with kids, too, probably because he’s a giant kid himself, but they seem to like him and listen to him and even the Jeffords’ girls behave when he raises his eyebrows at them and says he won’t let them have cookies after dinner.

He just can’t imagine a world with his kids in which he’s a dad.

Roger Peralta left when Jake was just seven years old, leaving a gaping hole in Jake’s life that only started to fill when Captain Holt joined the Nine-Nine. Jake’s a cop — a cop who has been sent to witness protection, wrongfully imprisoned and lay in a hospital bed too many times to count. His job is hella dangerous and time-consuming and he doesn’t want to have a kid and wreck the same emotional damage on them because he’s too busy catching murderers to come home most nights or because, God forbid, he’s been murdered himself. Plus, he has the most incredible wife and Jake doesn’t want anything to change between them. They have a good life, an even better sex life, a decent apartment in the city. They can’t afford the larger apartment they’d probably have to move into if they had kids or they babysitters they’d have to hire anytime they wanted to go on a date. And don’t even get him started on the effect it would have on their sex life — Amy told him about the book Terry bought for Sharon. That’s not happening with them.

Amy never mentioned wanting kids, so he didn’t think it was a big deal. She was career-driven, wanted to be the youngest Captain in the NYPD, and knew all too well the stresses and strains of loving a cop. He assumed they’d just be one of those couples who never had kids, but still had a very happy, loving relationship and went on fun, child-free holidays all the time.

But apparently he missed all the signals, and they didn’t communicate as well as he thought they did, and Amy does want kids. A whole brood of them. A gang of Santiagos. And it was so important to her that she would divorce him and start over with someone else if Jake couldn’t give her what she’d always wanted.

His stomach twists (like Pam’s messed up bowels) at the thought of not being married to Amy anymore. Obviously, she didn’t want them to go down that route — she didn’t want to start over — but she felt like she would have to when Jake dropped his “I don’t want kids” bombshell.

Bomb.

Your butt is the bomb.

He rolls onto his other side, his wife sleeping peacefully in his ratty old NYPD shirt she has commandeered for her pyjamas. She’s his dream girl. She’s perfect in every way — smart, kind, funny, beautiful. Everyday he gets to spend with someone as truly amazing as her is crazy to him. He couldn’t lose her.

Being in that hospital room with Pam earlier, managing to stay calm and successively take the bomb off her without blowing up into a million pieces, made him realise that even though something is difficult and scary (so scary), doesn’t mean he can’t do it.

Of course, his past will always be painful and their jobs might get in the way, but with Amy as his partner, he’s pretty sure he can do anything. Including being a dad. And when he thought about it some more while he waited for the bomb squad to let his wife back into the building, they would have stupid cute kids with his curly hair and Amy’s smile and a perfect blend of their dorky personalities.

He smiles as he cups Amy’s cheek and she shifts a little closer to him, her eyes fluttering open.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You OK?” She asks, concern etched into her face. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her eyes searching his. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you? Because I still have debate points we didn’t get the chance to make.”

“Haven’t changed my mind,” he promises, watching as she releases a deep sigh. “Just… thinking about things.”

“Like what?” She probes.

If today’s Babygate has taught them anything, it’s that communication is paramount. So he tells her everything he’s thinking. About his dad, about how he’s still terrified of being a dad himself, about the bomb. It’s much easier to talk to her without Holt and Kevin and Gayle (and Tom) listening in and point-scoring their arguments. Amy tells him how she feels, too, about how growing up with seven brothers and God knows how many cousins made her want kids and how of course she didn’t want to start over with someone else, she just got scared she wouldn’t be able to achieve that dream. By the end, they both understand each other a lot better and Jake feels a lot more comfortable about the prospect of trying to have kids soon.

Well, soon-ish.

Within the year.

“You know, we never got to reveal the #1 moment in our marriage highlight reel,” Amy rightfully points out, Pam interrupting their romantic moment.

“I’ll go first,” Jake says, racking his brain. There have been so many good moments. The wedding itself, the date night where Amy surprised him with a reservation at Bouche Manger, the day he was sick and Amy took the day off work to look after him and they hung out on the sofa binge-watching Property Brothers all day. One moment stands about above all others. “When you dressed up as Holly Gennaro.”

Amy rolls her eyes affectionately. “I should’ve known it would be about sex.”

“It’s not my fault my wife is ridiculously hot, Ames. I’m a simple man. What was your #1 moment?”

“You telling me you want kids,” she responds, biting her lip. “With me.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, running her fingers through his messy curls. “I’m so content right now. And I know you’re not quite there yet, but when we do have babies, they’re going to be the best babies ever. They’ll put all the other babies to shame.”

“Big time,” he agrees. “They’re all gonna be so jealous of little Atlas Peralta.”

Amy laughs and kisses him softly, showing her husband of one whole year just how much she loves him.

(A few months later, Amy pees on a stick in the bathroom stall at work and it comes back positive and all Jake’s fear is replaced by pure, unadulterated happiness. And lots of love.

And, as sure as he was when he signed up for the academy and got down on one knee on Halloween, he knows they can do this).


	12. 6x13: The Bimbo

They were supposed to meet at precisely 5:30PM to go home and get ready for dinner with her family to celebrate her dad’s birthday, but Jake’s not at his desk or the coffee machine or the bumper pool table in the break room when she gets the to fourth floor. Since it’s a Friday, Rosa, Charles and Terry have all gone home to be with their girlfriend and families respectively. Hitchcock and Scully are the only two left in the bullpen who may have seen where her husband went.

“Hey, guys,” she says, approaching them carefully. They startle easy and she doesn’t want to be responsible for any more precinct-based heart attacks. The paperwork was a nightmare. And their Captain  _died_. “Have you seen my husband?”

Hitchcock frowns. “You have a husband?”

“It’s OK, buddy,” Scully comforts his best friend. “You’re too good for Santiago anyway.”

Amy rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have time for this! It’s already 5:32PM and their reservation is at 7:00PM. They need to arrive an hour early since her parents love an early bird, which doesn’t leave them much time to get changed out of their work clothes. They went through this over breakfast and he promised, with his mouth full of  _Lucky Charms_  cereal, that he would not be tardy. She loves him more than anything in the world, but sometimes she can’t believe she married her always late, messy partner.

“Jake and I have been married for over a year. We wear wedding rings. You were at the ceremony.”

“We were?” Hitchcock shrugs.

“Was the food nice?”

“Cheddar ate our cake and we didn’t get a chance to eat at Shaw’s after Captain Holt read his email-.”

“What kind of wedding doesn’t have food, Santiago?” Scully yells, glaring at her. “I hope you get a divorce.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Can you just tell me where Jake went?”

“He’s in the evidence lock-up with Rosa,” Hitchcock finally reveals.

“Oh,” Amy says, caught off-guard. She hadn’t expected an actual answer, she assumed Jake would just show up in the bullpen while she was talking to them and they’d take credit. “That was surprisingly helpful. Thanks guys!”

She hurries into the evidence lock-up, wondering what case is so important he’d risk being late to dinner with her family (an unforgivable act in the eyes of Camila and Victor Santiago) and why Rosa lied to her about going home to Jocelyn (the sleuth sisters do not lie to each other). She stops dead when she finds them sitting opposite each other, Rosa with a textbook in her lap and Jake scribbling onto a whiteboard. That is... not what she expected.

“What’s going on here?”

Jake’s face immediately reddens upon seeing her. He shoots a nervous glance in Rosa’s direction. “Um. This is kind of embarrassing because I’m the smartest detective in the history of the Nine-Nine, but Rosa’s tutoring me,” he confesses, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

Amy’s face softens as she takes a few steps closer to him. “Tutoring you what?”

He mumbles something inaudible.

“I’m teaching him Spanish,” Rosa steps in. “He wanted to be able to understand what your parents were saying about him. You passed today’s class,” she says to Jake, a hint of pride in her voice that she’d deny if either of them mentioned it again. “See you both Monday.”

“Bye Rosa,” Amy responds, watching silently as their friend leaves. She takes the empty seat opposite Jake. “How long have you been taking Spanish lessons?”

“Since we got engaged.”

“ _That long_?”

“Yeah,” he says, bashful, scratching the back of his neck. “I wanted to do my wedding vows in Spanish like that episode of  _Jane the Virgin_  you love so much, but I got nervous and decided to rap instead and then my beatboxer didn’t show up.”

“Your vows were perfect,” she assures him, touched that he would even try to tell her how much he loved her in another language since most of his English consists of “noice”, “smort”, and adding “Z” to the ends of words.

“Thanks but-.” He sighs, gathering his thoughts. “I wanted to impress you.”

“You always impress me, Jake. Last week you changed our bedding. On. Your. Own. I’ve never been more impressed by you.”

He shakes his head. “That makes me sound like a terrible husband. You shouldn’t be impressed by the bare minimum.”

“You are not a terrible husband,” she says firmly.

“Your parents seem to think I am. Now I can understand them, I know they think I’m short and that I’ve got a big nose and that they hate my sneakers.  _What do Santiago’s always have against my sneakers_?” He asks, getting sidetracked. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve heard them say I’m not good enough for you.”

“They’re high-strung Cuban parents. And I’m their only daughter, of course they’re not going to think anyone is good enough for me,” she explains.

“I bet they liked Teddy,” he grumbles. “Teddy’s smart, Teddy likes crossword puzzles, Teddy doesn’t make unwise financial decisions.”

“You know what they called Teddy?  _Aburrido_.”

Jake pauses, his eyes meeting hers. The corners of his mouth stretch upwards. “They’re right. He’s the most boring man in America.”

“And you understood my Spanish,” she laughs, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“It’s about time I learnt, right? We’ve been together for years.”

“Learning another language is difficult, Jake. And it’s well-documented that learning a language over age 12 is even harder. The fact that you’re even taking lessons means the world to me.”

“It does?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nods. “It’s very romantic.”

“What can I say? I’m a very romantic man.” She giggles as he ditches the whiteboard and pulls her onto his lap. He strokes her hip absentmindedly with his thumb. “I have another reason for wanting to learn Spanish, besides wanting to impress you and wanting to understand your parents insults about my nose. They are so creative, by the way.”

“Yeah,” Amy grimaces. She’s told them to stop, but clearly it’s still going on when she’s not around. She determines to put her foot down, to power pose them, whatever it takes. He’s her husband and she loves every part of him - especially his nose.

“You want to know the other reason?” He teases.

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Well,” he grins, “I figured our future kid is going to be bilingual, ri-.”

He doesn’t even finish his sentence, his words muffled against Amy’s lips.

“I love you so much,” she reminds him between kisses.

“I love you so much too,” he responds, his laughter reverberating against her lips.

“My parents are going to be so impressed when they hear you’re learning Spanish,” she says when they break apart.

“You think?” He asks nervously.

“Definitely. And if you tell them you’re going to make them abuelos again? And that you’re planning on our kid being bilingual? They’ll love you forever.”

“Awesome.” He kisses her again.

“Jake,” she says eventually. “Dinner.”

“Oh, shit.” He checks the time on his phone and  _ouch_  - they are running very late. “Let’s go! I have Camila’s to charm.”

Amy laughs as he grabs her hand and drags her out the precinct.

Dinner’s not actually until 8:00PM. But he doesn’t need to know that.


	13. 6x14: Ticking Clocks

_FOMO (noun): fear of missing out, fear of not being included in something (such as an interesting or enjoyable activity) that others are experiencing._

Amy rolls her eyes as her husband reads the Merriam-Webster definition from his phone. “I do not have FOMO.”

“You totally do, Ames. Especially when it comes to cool cases, like that hostage situation at the bank. You have work FOMO. FOMOW.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” she dismisses him, continuing The Times crossword.

“So you wouldn’t be jealous if I told you about the murder I worked today while you were doing paperwork?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Nope.”

“It was gruesome,” he taunts.

“Don’t care,” she insists, filling in 5 Down.

“I think it might be a serial killer.”

She drops the paper, suddenly interested. “A serial killer? Really?”

“Mmhmm.” He smirks. He knew that would pique her attention. “And maybe a cannibal one at that. You ever worked a cannibal case before?”

“You know I haven’t,” she hisses, frustrated. While she worked a few juicy murders as a detective, cannibalistic serial killers in Brooklyn are not as common as TV might lead you to believe. “Tell me everything.”

“We really don’t know a lot yet,” he responds nonchalantly. “I’m going to talk to Caleb tomorrow. Maybe he knows something.”

“Caleb your old cellmate?”

“Yep. But I’m sure your paperwork was  _super_  interesting, babe. What was it? A few jaywalking tickets?”

“No,” she lies. “OK, fine, yes,” she admits a few moments later. He can see right through her.

He grins, his skin crinkling around his eyes. He’d look cute if he wasn’t annoying the crap out of her. “You have FOMOW.”

“I do  _not_ -.”

“You’re my wife, babe. I know you. I bet you’ll go into work tomorrow and ask Holt to be assigned to my dope serial killer case.”

“I have tomorrow off actually,” she shrugs, examining her nails. “And I have pretty dope plans myself.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Washing your smelly socks for starters.”

He gasps dramatically, fumbling beneath the covers. “I am shocked and offended, that my own wife would say my feet smell.” He stops fumbling and then throws one of his socks on her face, dissolving into laughter.

Amy scowls at him, throwing the sock back. “Your feet stink.”

“Yours are worse,” he retorts like a freakin’ kindergartener.

“That’s literally impossible, Jake. Sleeping with you is like sleeping with that gross cheese Charles brought into work last week.”

“You’re comparing me to cheese?” He scoffs.

“Yes. In fact, I think your feet are worse.”

“Wow. Wow. WOW. OK, you’re clearly just deflecting because you can’t admit that you have a major case of FOMOW.”

“I DO NOT HAVE FOMOW!” She yells so loud their deaf, elderly neighbours can probably hear her.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow, won’t we?” He teases.

“Whatever.” She switches off her bedside light, engulfing them into darkness, and rolls onto her side facing away from him. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“You just did,” he points out.

“Shut up.”

“10-4,” he responds, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “For the record, I love that you’re a huge dork who has FOMOW. It’s adorable.”

Her lips twitch into a small smile as she rolls over and gives him a proper goodnight kiss. “Thanks, babe.”

(When he arrives at work the next morning, she is already sat at his desk, reading through his serial killer case file. He smirks as he joins her, Peralta and Santiago reunited on an epic quest to take down a cannibal. He knew she couldn’t resist).


	14. 6x18: The Suicide Squad

Amy’s first fleeting thought when they are officially locked in the holding cell is that this will definitely demote her from her parent’s mantle.

 

Her second thought is Jake.

 

The realisation that they are probably going to jail and will be separated for an indefinite amount of time  _again_  crashes over her like a tidal wave of fear.

 

When she looks up, he’s already watching her carefully, like he knows what she’s thinking, a sadness in his eyes that suggests he’s thinking the exact same thing.

 

He gets taken for questioning first — the first turd to be flushed, he’d half-joked — and she has to sit there knowing she may never see him as a free man again. And while she  _did_  love his prison beard, she can’t bare the thought of him growing it out again. She can’t bare the thought of him going back there.

 

She takes a shaky breath in and out.  _Inhala, exhala_ , her abuela used to say when she was panicking. While this situation is way more freakin’ terrifying than that time she lost her favourite gel pen as an eight year old girl, her abuela’s advice still seems to do the trick.

 

For all of five minutes.

 

Every second he is in the interrogation room feels like an eternity. She paces the width of the holding cell, her mind running wild with the things they could be saying to him. She can feel everyone’s eyes on her and it’s cliché but you could literally cut the tension with a knife.

 

“He’s been in there a while,” she says, suddenly breaking the silence.

 

“Yeah,” Rosa mutters. “They interrogated us for hours last time, too.”

 

“ _Hours_?” Amy squeaks. There aren’t many secrets between her and her husband (they tell each other everything anyway, but it would be pretty hard to keep any since they’re both incredible detectives), however, his arrest and subsequent prison stint have not been widely discussed. He’s told her about Caleb and solitary confinement and having a shiv thrown at him, but sometimes he’ll get a faraway look in his eye or he’ll wake up from a nightmare and she knows he’s remembering the really bad stuff. It’s painful for him to talk about and, to be honest, she doesn’t want to listen to it either.

 

Terry shoots Rosa a glare, his expression softening as he looks back at Amy. “This isn’t like last time, Santiago. He’s going to be OK.”

 

“He better be. I can’t lose Jake again. And obviously you can’t lose him again either, Amy,” Charles adds after Terry punches him in the arm, sufficiently chastised.

 

“No. I can’t.” She buries her face in her hands. They’re married now. They’re happy. They agreed last week that they’d start trying for a baby. And now this.

 

She remained hopeful last time around. She didn’t want to consider him not getting the innocent verdict because the alternative hurt too much. It didn’t sink in until she saw him in that prison jumpsuit the first time, skinnier than the last time she saw him. It’s harder to be positive now because the fact is he’s been to jail before. And she’s been to enough court proceedings to know the prosecution will use that to sway the jury.

 

“What if he goes back there?”

 

Rosa grabs her hand, squeezing it tightly. “ _If_  he goes back there,” she says, emphasising the hypothetical, “we will get through it. Together.”

 

Amy nods, tears escaping down her cheek. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she hears another voice, her favourite voice.

 

“Jake!” She sobs. He’s blurred through her watery eyes but he’s there and he’s not in handcuffs and they’re opening up the holding cell, they’re free to go-.

 

She collapses in his arms, hugging him tighter than she’s maybe ever hugged him before.

 

“It’s OK, babe,” he whispers in her ear. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
